The Rhunland Bride
by SteerpikeSister
Summary: The Sequel to "Moonlight and Shadow". as Grima and Eowyn prepare to Marry, events unfold that threaten to tear their Happiness away from them.
1. Default Chapter

The Rhunland Bride.  
  
A sequel to Moonlight and Shadow, by SteerpikeSister  
  
AN: please read "Moonlight and Shadow" before reading this story, as it begins where M&S left off, and the following events might be confusing. This Story is Dedicated to WarLady, Vereena, and all the other Grimafans, and the Livejournal communities "Leechcraft", "Grimafans", and the wonderful Grimacounsellor himself.  
  
Chapter one  
  
The woman with hair the colour of moonlight swayed in the breeze, moving in tune with the tree she clung to, watching the distant procession, marked by its plume of red smoke that showed clearly through the dense pine forest. The breeze was strong and shook the branches that she held on to, but she went with the flow of the wind, feeling liberated out of sight of the villagers below.  
"What cans't thou see, Lass?" came the shout from the gruff man below her, industriously heaving stone blocks around as if they weighed nothing.  
"They're about a mile away, Mogray!" She shouted before climbing down the tree that had served her as a crows-nest. She dropped the last few feet to the ground and landed cat-like on the moist earth just in time to see her betrothed striding towards her from the village. His grey cloak swirled around him, whipped by the wind, like his long dark hair, into snake like tendrils that danced in the breeze. His heavy lidded eyes were fixed upon her own, and Eowyn could not help the shiver she felt at his strident approach. He seemed to glide like a predatory animal, an image that was not helped by his feral expression, his leonine sneer.  
The Villager who had asked her to climb the tree stood beside her laughing.  
"Here comes Grimaulkin, Lass. Thou should not let him order thee about as he wishes. Give him some trouble, Lass. Let him know what he's in for in marrying thee!" Mogray chuckled, amused by the frequent arguments the couple had, looking to incite them to more entertainment.  
"Eowyn! Were you climbing trees again? And what on earth are you wearing?" he said, his strange grey and white eyes flashing with pretended anger, his lips twisted trying not to smile at her. Eowyn sniffed; She knew he was referring to the doeskin leggings she wore under her linen tunic. She was helping the builders, and it was not as if anyone cared what she wore here. In her homeland she was a noble lady, but here she was just Eowyn, soon to be the Wife of the Village Healer. The Erhundai were a strange, insular folk, but had taken to her well, and Eowyn felt at home amongst them as if she had been born to them.  
"If I am to be of use I must be dressed appropriately, my love. Mogray suggested it, so if you must complain then take your grievances to him. If you want to take my place you are more than welcome." She said, knowing full well what his reply would be.  
"I am much too busy. The amount of people craving my attention increases by the hour, even in such a small settlement such as this." He said grumpily before taking her hand and kissing it gently. As always, the touch of his lips on her skin made her shiver, and looked into his eyes to see the knowledge of this fact in his smile. Even the smallest touch had this effect on her, and her betrothed knew this and took advantage of it at every opportunity.  
"When are Thalie and her husband due to arrive? I have everything prepared for them." Grima asked. Eowyn's former handmaid had married her Elven husband the previous year, and had resided in Esgaroth until a few months previously when Grima had suggested that Eowyn might like to invite them to come to Vashkah village in the Rhunland to attend Eowyn for her Marriage. The message, sent via Legolas, was received enthusiastically, and Thalie, Dathomir and their half-elf baby girl had begun their journey from the city upon the Long Lake to the village by the Inland Sea the red smoke that Eowyn had seen from the forest canopy had been their signal, so she told Grima that they should be in the Village within the hour.  
"Well then," Grima said thoughtfully, "Should you not hasten to dress as befits your station for their arrival? It would not do for your former servant to appear more noble than the Lady of Rohan, would it?" Grima smiled at his beautiful bride-to-be, knowing without a doubt that were she dressed in dirty rags she would still be the most beautiful lady in the land.  
"Thalie knows full well that I am a Shieldmaiden, and dress as I think fit for the occasion," she said, pouting. "But on this occasion I yield to your reasoning." She said happily, and ran back to the settlement, waving to Grima and Mogray as she ran, her heart light with excitement at the impending meeting with one of the few mortals, apart from her beloved Grima, who understood her.  
  
Eowyn dressed quickly, choosing an emerald green gown with a silver and turquoise bodice, and the long, draping sleeves that marked her out as a Noble of Rohan. As the Princess of the Realm, she had worn many beautiful dresses and been draped in expensive jewellery, but during the months she had lived in Vashkah she had taken to making her own clothes, as those she had brought with her stood out amongst the villagers own animal skin and rough homespun cloth. She had given away quite a few of her gowns to the young girls who had never owned anything so pretty before, and had came up with the idea of dying their plain white linen with berry juice to give them some colour at least, but there was one dress that she had never worn before, that she had packed to take from Edoras many months before, and with reason. It was white satin, decorated with pale green ribbon and dripped pearls, its neckline was the lowest she had dreamed of, and the sleeves would trail on the ground behind her. It would be her wedding dress. She glanced at it as she always did while dressing, feeling a little thrill for the day when she would wear it three months hence.  
As she brushed her hair, Eowyn reflected upon her situation. She had been living in Vashkah for some months now, and had not told her brother or anyone from her homeland that she would soon marry the man they had declared a traitor and banished from Rohan. She had sent a message to her Brother-King Eomer through the Kingsman Mirghast that she was to marry "Lord Greymist", a Rhunland noble, and that he was not to worry about her. This was true, as Grima was known here as Grimaulkin Greymist, his true name, but she still felt unhappy about the untruth. As much as she loved her brother, she did not think he would trouble himself about his wayward sister, not while he had a country of his own to reign over. Mirghast had returned to Vashkah a month before, bearing a message of goodwill for Eowyn and her chosen husband, not even enquiring as to the outcome of her mission to find Wormtongue. No doubt he was relived that she had finally "Settled Down".  
Mirghast had lingered in the village since his return and had joined the men, newly returned from Mordor, in rebuilding the village. He had been useful, but Eowyn suspected that he remained intent on watching over her, and still seemed distrustful of Grima's intentions toward the Lady. Legolas, her other travelling companion, had determined the sincerity of Grima's words with his Elven senses, and left to attend his duties in Mirkwood, but had promised to return with Thalie and Dathomir to lead them to Vashkah and stay for the wedding.  
The Wedding loomed large in Eowyn's thoughts, as ever. Months away yet, but still hovering in the back of her mind, it drew her attention away from everyday things for as long as she had nothing to do. It still seemed unreal to her that Grima, who loved her, and she who had but newly discovered her heart, were to be united in the autumn. From the time they had announced their intentions, Eowyn and Grima had had only a few moments alone together, as was appropriate, but the nature of those moments caused her to worry. She had expected, given the violence of his passion that he would at least have kissed her, held her, done something to express his love, but he had not. He had smiled, which made her smile at him, and they had talked, which she had enjoyed, but the distance between them was puzzling. She was aware at the impropriety of the actions she had expected, but was also aware that the stringent chaperonage that they had been subject to was designed to prevent the ruin of the Lady to be wed, but felt that it did not apply to Her, or to Grima. After all, she was nearly twenty- five summers old, and he more than ten summers older, and unlikely to betray her!  
Eowyn sighed heavily. As usual her thoughts had led her nowhere, and now she was late to meet the long expected party.  
  
By early that evening Thalie and her family had settled into the cottage Grima had prepared for them. As the villagers numbered so few, there were many empty dwellings suited to housing any who cared to stay. As she had expected, Grima had absented himself from the vicinity, as Thalie would no doubt recognise him as her country's traitorous counsellor, leaving Eowyn to inform her of the change in his favour. After all, they had discussed the situation at length and come to the conclusion that as a Princess of the country he had wronged, Eowyn herself was able to pardon him. She had done this immediately, laughing all the while.  
Eowyn sat with Thalie as she rocked her child to sleep, the little child they had named Sueilila, meaning "Wood Star" and after talking with her at length about her journey and other concerns, Eowyn eventually felt bold enough to broach the subject of who it was she intended to marry.  
"Thalie...there is something I must tell you." She said, frowning. Not for the first time she wished she had some of Grima's wit with words as she thought how best to explain her situation.  
"Whatever could that be, Lady? Is something wrong?" the rose-cheeked girl asked, her youth still evident despite the care of the child in the rocker at her side. Thalie had served Eowyn longer than any other, most giving up after a time; her temper had been so ungovernable.  
"I must ask you to keep a secret, Thalie. What I have to say will shock you, but I ask that you reserve judgement, but keep this information to yourself no matter what." She said earnestly.  
Thalie smiled happily. She liked secrets, and was pleased that her former mistress had chosen to confide in her. She had immediately noticed the change in her former Mistress, and was eager to find out what had caused it.  
"Very well. What is it?" she said, trying not to seem too interested.  
"My Betrothed...is...someone we have both previously met...."she said hesitantly. If she could not tell her former handmaid, how could she ever tell her Brother?  
"Yes?" Thalie urged her to continue.  
"He is...oh, by all the stars...He is Grima, Thalie...Wormtongue." She said, searching the younger woman's face for her reaction.  
"By the stars indeed...Wormtongue? Then he wasn't dead? But...how?" she replied brokenly, her eyes wide.  
"He survived, and escaped, and came here...it's a long story that I will tell you in due course. I love him, Thalie. We are going to be married." She said firmly.  
Thalie studied her Former mistress's expression intently. What she saw was all the confirmation she needed. Eowyn glowed, her skin was fresh and clear, her gestures light and animated, her manner changed so much from the cold and undemonstrative ways she had displayed in Rohan. Eowyn was in love. There was a light behind her eyes that Thalie had never seen before. But...Wormtongue? Thalie wondered what spell he had cast over the noble Lady, for she knew him to be capable of such evil. How could she love such a man? It was very strange to her.  
"Please, I know that you do not understand my love for Grima, but talk to him tonight, at the feast. He has changed so much in so short a time!" Eowyn asked the young woman earnestly.  
"Very well." She replied thoughtfully, not at all sure she would find any man, let alone the man who betrayed her country, worthy of her Lady's love.  
  
That night a feast was held for the entire village, to honour their guests, and to begin the ritual of the three months for Grimaulkin and his Eowyn. An old Erhundai tradition that Grima insisted they endure, it meant that they could not be alone with each other until they were married, and each had to have a friend with them at all times. Eowyn was unsure as to why Grima was so reticent about the notion of being alone with the women he was to marry, but acquiesced to his request as she thought wise. Grima had asked Mirghast to be his watcher, an unusual alliance, Eowyn thought for the tow seemed to have no love lost between them, but she reasoned with herself, if he who so distrusted her Betrothed could satisfy himself that Grima's intentions were true, then maybe the rest of the world could too. Eowyn had asked the greatly flattered Thalie, who insisted that they stay in the same cottage together until the Three months was over. Thalie took this opportunity, as Eowyn had suggested, to study Grima, and see if he had indeed changed as much as Eowyn insisted he had. In truth, what she saw caused her great surprise, as Grima was no longer the hunched, thin and angular man he had been, but seemed to resemble a warrior with his broadened shoulders, his height, and his waist-length mantle of sleek inky hair. His pale skin made him seem ethereal, as did the laughter visible in his strange milky eyes. He was almost unrecognisable, an example of what hard work and simple life could do. Thalie covertly observed Grima all that night, and after a time was satisfied. His love for Eowyn, as evident as it had ever been, showed itself in the adoring looks and preferential treatment he gave her, and in her blushes and acceptance of his emotional tribute. Indeed, Thalie thought...they have both changed each other.  
  
It was later that night when the Messenger arrived, when the children had been put to bed, and Eowyn sat with Thalie while the elders told tales around the fire. Legolas and Mirghast, who had heard his approach and set out to intercept his course, stopped the hooded figure as he hurried along the dirt track. Upon identifying him as an Erhundai, he was escorted into the circle of firelight to give his message to the Elders "I come from Askantai. The high elders have been searching for anyone who bears the old Kings line. Do any here yet stand for Old Ogrem?" Grama Grawly, the Eldest of the Villagers looked the visitor over. He wore the russet cloak of the Old King's house, and spoke with the accent of the askantian court. Even so, Grama was not immediately inclined to believe him. She spoke in the Rhunland Speech; "Vash grahagr spanz outré vasokah?" (What is your house to mine?) The messenger replied, "Nasha sohka ni minen mah vasti. Nasami mynuen!" (No more than mine to yours. I speak truth!) Grama nodded. He was true. "Let him speak." She told the villagers who watched interestedly. "Why do you search for the King's Line?" the old woman asked. "Ogrem is dead. His remains were found in Mordor. We have no King." He said succinctly.  
  
Please Review! I am finding all your comments very instructive and helpful, and the more reviews I get, the more inspired I become.  
  
SteerpikeSister 


	2. Chapter 2 the herald of fate

Chapter two: the herald of fate.  
  
Come my love, I'll tell you a tale,

Of a boy and girl, and their love story.

And how he loved her oh, so much,

And all the charms she did posses.  
  
Now this did happen once upon a time,

When things were not so complex

And how he worshipped the ground she walked,

When he looked in her eyes he became obsessed.  
  
My love is like a storybook story,

But it's as real as the feelings I feel.

My love is like a storybook story,

But it's as real as the feelings I feel.  
  
The Princess Bride, S Morgensturn.  
  
Suddenly the village was filled with tension and silence. Grawly looked from the messenger to Grima, who shook his head vehemently. Grama stood up wearily. She was too old for this, but it must be she who dealt with this tricky dilemma. "Messenger, whatever your name, stay, take some wine while we talk. There are some I must speak with." She said carefully, not wanting to give the young man false hopes that his mission was successful. The old woman indicated with a shake of her head who was needed and who not, and Grama took Grima, Eowyn, Mogray, Moira and Fyrim into the depths of the forest where they could not be overheard even by the Elven ears they had left by the fire. "So old Ogre is dead. Good riddance." She said gruffly, "But who will replace him?" she continued with a pointed look at Grima. He shook his head once more and crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

"You know why I cannot claim my Line. Diagon has more claim than I." He said, referring to the child of Moira and Fyrim, whom they had taken as their own after his parents' death.  
"He is the Son of your Sister. Were he Son of your brother, that might be true, but you know it is not so." Said Fyrim.  
Grima sighed. It seemed as though all he had dreamed of was about to come to pass, and then his past had caught up with him once more. Would the Trials of Wormtongue never end?  
"It is a weak connection at best. There is no sense in bringing my presence to light without good reason." Grima stated defiantly.  
"Grima...am I correct in thinking you are in line for the Throne of your Homeland?" said Eowyn in a small voice, taking his hand and searching his face with her ice blue eyes that pierced his soul and forced him to reveal the truth.  
"Yes. I am the Son of Galmod, who was the King's Brother. But Galmod was himself a Bastard, and not in line. His Brother took pity on him and decreed that his offspring could Stand in his own Line, but Galmod threw this back in his face, by Siring many illegitimate children and attempting to present them at court. Ogrem was furious and cast him out of Court, when he came to live here in Vashkah, and married my Mother, Graemae, and sired three legitimate children. Gargamel, Grimaulkin and Grizelda. If my brother or my sister had not been killed by Sauron's armies, they could have claimed his Line."  
Eowyn thought hard. "Why can you not claim your Line? Are you worried about Eomer and Aragorn?"  
"I think that were we ever to meet, they would have no hesitation about slaughtering my entire country to kill me. Of that I am certain. You have not told your brother that we are to marry, I trust?"  
"I have not." Eowyn replied in sombre tones. "But what of Diagon?"  
Fyrim spoke. "He is too young, and is once removed by birth. Grimaulkin has the greater claim, with Diagon as his Heir."  
"Politically that would put me in a stronger position, but that is precisely what I do not want! I have no desire to Rule. I would be exceedingly bad at it, and I have no wish to bear the weight of a thousand more deaths upon my head."  
Eowyn looked at her betrothed in a new light. His involvement in the Great War had caused many deaths, it was true, but he acknowledged this, and as far as she could see, Grima had all the qualities she would look for in a Ruler. All the qualities, she reflected, that her Brother lacked. Grima would rather live in obscurity than even attempt to rule and fail, for he would not have failed only himself, but his entire country. This ideal of responsibility, she believed, was what a country needed in its King. Grima should be king.  
"My love," she said, "I believe you would be a good king. You have it in you to be Just and Strong as I have seen you be. It was you who made my homeland great, and just think of what you could do for your homeland without having to persuade someone of your reasoning! Your land needs you, my love." She looked at him with imploring eyes, secure in her love for him and the knowledge of his suitability.  
Grima sighed heavily, his last resolve leaving him as he looked into her eyes, seeing only her truth, and knowing it to be his own, as well as hers.  
"Very well, I will Claim my Line, but I will not argue for the Throne. I do not desire to die just yet. Grama, let us return to our guests." He said commandingly, not noticing the flicker of amusement that passed between Grama Grawly and the Shieldmaiden.  
  
"What is your name, messenger?" Grawly asked when the group had returned.  
"I am named Garik Northcold."  
"Well, Garik, we have living in our little village two people of the old Ogre's Line. Grimaulkin Greymist, here before you," she indicated Grima, to whom the Messenger immediately bowed, "and a small boy named Diagon Greyveldt. No doubt you know of the Grey line family?" the messenger nodded before replying:  
"The Children of Galmod Greymire, I presume. Might I ask your parents names?" he asked earnestly, eager to return to Court and relay the news of his successful journey.  
Grima spoke to the young man with an air of authority that he had cultivated first as a counsellor, then as a healer to his stubborn and obstinate people.  
"My Father you know, my Mother was Graemae Vas Darae, of the witch clan Daaes. Diagon is the Son of My Sister Grizelda Greymist, and Dagreth Greythorn, who's father was Galmod's Eldest Son, Dargrem Greyskar." He said, his voice clipped and precise.  
The messenger voiced his thoughts aloud.  
"Then this child you speak of has a double Line from the King? He may have greater claim, but that is up to the Elders. Will you both come to Askantai before summer's end? I must bid you all farewell before morning."  
Grima Looked at Eowyn hopelessly.  
"If it cannot be helped."  
  
That night Eowyn broke curfew, and crept out of the cottage she shared with Thalie and her family. The night-lights had long since been doused, and the blackness around her took some time to adjust to. Slowly and silently, Eowyn made her way across the village square to Grima's cottage, where she was relieved to see a light burning still. She listened at the door for a moment in case someone was with Grima, but heard none. She opened the door and went in. Grima looked up, startled at her appearance, but beckoned her closer, rising to greet her. Silently he enfolded her in his arms, the velvet robe he wore soft and warm against her cool skin.  
"Why did you come here, my Lady? It is past your curfew." He whispered directly into her ear, his breath causing her to shiver a little. Letting her head rest against his chest, Eowyn replied;  
"I wanted to see you. And to talk about what happened last night, if you will allow it."  
Grima sighed. "What is it you wish to know?" he said, fearing her answer.  
"What is going to happen?" Grima led Eowyn to his hearth and sat her down before it, bringing her some wine before joining her before the fire.  
"Nothing, if it can be arranged. The messenger that came to us has found two other people with a claim to Ogrem's throne, and I am hopeful that one will have better claim than I."  
"Is it possible? I thought all of your family were dead?"  
"They are, and long since. Diagon and I are the last of the line of Grey. But the line of Ogrem's son may yet live, and as such will be more entitled to the position. If all else fails, I will argue in favour of Diagon, for although he is a child yet, he will not rule under such fear as would i."  
"Do you still fear the Kings of Men?" she asked worriedly. Eowyn wanted her Betrothed to be happy, but feared that if he ever came to the attention of any noble outside the Rhun, then his death would be inevitable.  
"There are rules in these matters, as with all else. The King of Gondor will not want to risk war upon a scattered and broken nation; he would seem brutal and cruel in the eyes of his people, and I believe him to be a man who would be loved. The Elf-King, as ever, will not be interested in who rules any land so far removed from his own. Eomer, I think, would kill me without thought or hesitation, and would readily take his people to war, even if all they could fight were women and children."  
"I worry about my brother; he is often in my thoughts. But I worry about my homeland more. Eomer has no grasp of events in other lands, less still of how his people might be affected by them. He did not give a thought to my marriage; he merely wished me well. He should know that a princess is a valuable asset to a king, one to be used to cement ties with other countries, but I believe he did not think of that, and were it to be used against him, he would not know the proscribed action."  
"My Love, are you suggesting that our alliance might prevent my death?" Grima said, his face lighting up at the thought of his salvation from what seemed an unjust fate.  
"If that is what it comes to, then I will stand against him, but only as a last resort. In the mean time, what is there to be done?"  
"We must travel to Askantai, and see who is left, and let the Elders decide. Diagon and his Parents will come too, as might Mirghast and Legolas, as your protection, for I doubt they will let you travel with me without them. Thalie and Dathomir may remain here, for I think the journey and what it entails should be attended to within a short time, perhaps no more than two months. Then, when someone other than me is pronounced Ogrem's Successor, we shall return to Vashkah."  
"That sounds simple enough. I hope it comes to pass as you have envisioned."  
"As do I, my sweet. As do I." Grima sighed as he looked at his betrothed bride. In the three months that had passed he had almost become used to her presence, and of the tentative, unsure affection they had given one another. As they were both unused to such conduct their intimacy had been more communicative than physical, each one unable to open their protective shells and let the other in. Grima reflected that, as wonderful as her willing companionship was, the idea of their impending marriage still seemed distant and unattainable. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her close, yet their embraces were few, and he could not help but think that she still found him repulsive, that her whispered declaration of love might have been some cruel joke that fate had played upon him. He cried to himself when she had gone, having exchanged a single kiss that had warmed him for a brief shining instant, but had left him colder than before when his doubts once again assailed him.  
  
Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! By now, you may have guessed what I intend for this story. I am granting wishes for Grima, but it may be a long and rocky road until he achieves all that was denied him. Please continue to review, I am so inspired, this chapter came earlier than I expected!


	3. Chapter 3 Preperations

Chapter three. Preparations.  
  
They could in the self same mansion dwell  
  
Without some stir of heart, some malady;  
  
They could not sit at meals but feel how well  
  
It soothed each other to be the other by.  
  
Isabella and the pot of Basil, Keats.  
  
Eowyn awoke at dawn to the unusual bustle of the villagers outside her door. Once she had bathed and dressed in her leggings and tunic she rushed outside to see what all the noise was in aid of. The sight that greeted her was a strange one indeed.  
  
The elven horses that had carried The Shieldmaiden and her party to the Rhunland were tied up outside Grima's Cottage, being loaded with provisions and equipment for the impending journey. Mirghast, the Kingsman Ranger, was looking askance at the spectacle of a crowd of villagers attempting to pack one pannier, and the expression on his face showed his confusion.  
  
Eowyn approached, amused by the antics before her as she watched Grima attempt to fend them off, coming to stand by Mirghast in his vantage point atop a broken down wall.  
  
"It is madness, and has been so since first light!" he told the smiling noblewoman;   
  
"What on earth are they doing?" he said, scratching his head.   
  
"Is it not obvious? They are helping Grima pack." She replied sarcastically. "I believe they merely wish him well. This is a show of confidence, do you not see? We go to see if Grima may claim the Throne, and his people know it and are hopeful." She told him astutely. Mirghast looked at Eowyn appraisingly.   
  
"And how do you come by this knowledge?" he said raising an eyebrow in her direction.  
  
"You may have been trained by a king, but you are not one. I am a Princess, my friend, and versed in the arts of intuition and perception. I also know that it is traditional for anyone leaving the village to receive a gift for the journey, and as the Healer here, Grima commands the respect of many."  
  
"You are a wonder. How long was it before you knew these folk better than your own at home?" he asked, marvelling at the observations of this fair Princess, who at times had been more warrior than most.  
  
"This land is to be my home soon, my friend. The sooner I understand its people, the better."  
  
"Then you intend to truly marry Wormtongue?"  
  
"I do. You did not know him before, although I'm sure you knew of him. The changes in him are so remarkable that I could not but love him. And in truth, I think I have loved him even before. His love for me had been my only constant in a changing world. He is the rock that I may cling to in this storm."  
  
"But what if he is the only Heir left? He will be King, and you his Queen?"  
  
"That is a difficult matter. We shall simply have to wait and see. Are you ready to leave tomorrow?"  
  
"As ever. Legolas is eager to see Askantai. He tells me it is a sacred place to the elves. What do you know of it?"  
  
"Not much more than you. It is the royal city of the Rhunland, where the nobles live at court, although from what I have heard, there are few left there. It may be in worse shape than Vashkah. I will go and ask Legolas what he knows." Said Eowyn, and turned and left the Ranger in search of the elf.  
  
Eowyn found the young Prince in the forest, sitting beneath a fir tree playing his ocarina. He finished the tune he was playing and looked up at the Shieldmaiden, smiling wistfully.  
  
"The trees here sing with me. Just like they do in my home forest."  
  
"The Trees sing?" Eowyn asked, sitting down beside him.  
  
"They resonate with their own melody. You just have to know what you're listening for. Truly, this is a great forest. It may be that the old tales are true."  
  
"What old tales? I thought no one knew about the Rhunland other that the people who live here?"  
  
Legolas replied thoughtfully "The Elves have many tales about this land, but keep them to their selves, for the most part. As I'm sure the Erhundai know them already, I will tell you one such tale. The elves, as you know, came from the east. From Some distant land that they left behind them to come to this Middle Earth, as they named it.   
  
They had thought that no sentient life had begun here, so they were surprised to find this place, the Rhunland, already had a flourishing civilization. The people they thought were very strange, for the people were unlike elves or men. Their skins were white as milk; their hair like ravens wing, and their voices pure and haunting to the elves ears. But the Erhundai people, distrustful of all strangers, made the Elves leave their homeland to journey into the wilderness beyond the Inland Sea, and closed the mountain pass behind them. The elves journeyed far, but found homes for themselves eventually, as you already know." Eowyn thought for a moment before replying to this strange story the Elf had told her.  
  
"Is this the reason you are so distrusted here?" she asked, referring to the Erhundai's cold treatment of the elf.  
  
"I believe so. I have only the elven tale to tell, and who knows what the true version may be. The Erhundai may think differently."  
  
"That may be. But Mirghast tells me that Askantai is a Sacred place for the Elven race. Why is that?" she asked animatedly. Her mind was suddenly filled with questions that she would ask Grima when she had time.  
  
"Askantai is the place where the Elves first met the Erhundai. No elf has set foot there in more than one hundred thousand years. It will be a significant event in the world was I to accompany you, my Lady. Mirghast could pass for a Rhunlander were his skin paled with powder, but I, I do not know if it is wise for me to accompany you."  
  
"I will consult with Grima and Grama Grawly. I'm sure they will be able to advise. It may be that while your presence here means something to you, it has no consequence for the Erhundai."  
  
"I would wish that that were so. Please, return to me and tell me of your findings, for I would not endanger you if it could be avoided."  
  
Eowyn nodded, her mind a tumble of strange thoughts.  
  
Later that night, Grima stood outside the fire circle, just beneath the canopy of needles, scraping resin from the bark of a pine. His mind, too, was filled with thoughts, although his were of the unpleasant sort.  
  
I should not go, he thought to himself, I should renounce my line and stay here with Eowyn. This venture can only lead to disaster. What good is a king who cannot meet with anyone from outside his land? Even the Elf King is willing to let other royalty into his land without issue?  
  
Just then the Kingsman appeared with the skill of his kind, out of the trees and approached Grima.  
  
"Greymist," he called out, having lately decided that to call Grima by anything other than this would be impolite.  
  
"Greymist, Eowyn has given me a message for you; Thalie is to accompany us tomorrow after all. Dathomir is quite capable of looking after the baby for a time, and Thalie has no wish to abandon her duties as Eowyn's watcher. A duty it seems I have been lax in myself. I apologise for this."  
  
"Accepted, Kingsman. I shall see about obtaining another horse for Thalie before I retire. But tell me, how do you like my homeland?" Grima asked, glad of anything that could distract him from his dark thoughts of a moment before. Mirghast appeared thoughtful for a moment before replying.  
  
"It is...interesting. The people are strange, but good. The land itself is such a strange mix; these strange trees with no undergrowth around them would not provide cover for other than one trained as I have been, and the sea so close, why, I had never seen so much water in one place before I came here! I like this land, Greymist. In truth, that is why I remain here to look after the lady. I had charged myself with her protection long before, but find that life here agrees with me. If it is possible, I intend to ask my King to make me "Rhunland Ranger", if the people have no objection."  
  
Grima looked at the Ranger askance. He had no idea of his intentions, but nevertheless, he was most certainly welcome, and told him so. Mirghast smiled at Grima for the first time, genuinely happy to receive Grima's assurance of his welcome in his homeland. Mirghast suddenly had a vision of what this land could be under the rule of a good king, and henceforth decided that Grima's assent to the throne could only bring about good, if there were no threat from the other realms of men. After accepting Grima's invitation to share his supper later that night, Mirghast left to carry the invitation to Legolas.  
  
Left once again alone, but with a lightened heart, Grima went in search of Eowyn, whom he found in Thalie's cottage, preparing for the journey ahead. For a moment he watched her, laughing with her handmaid, her eyes alight as she industriously rolled blankets. Truly, Grima thought, there could be no other in this land as fair as his betrothed. Her skin was fresh milk, with rose petals upon her cheeks, her hair spun moonlight, a silver-pale waterfall that flowed out behind her, her body lithe and slender as a clear mountain stream, pure as snowmelt in spring and soon to be his alone.   
  
That any being could lay claim to such a vision, confounded him whenever he thought of it, and further still when he thought that she was soon to stand willingly by his side as his wife.  
  
When Eowyn looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, she blushed beautifully, and the shy smile she gave him brought tears of joy to his eyes. He had never imagined that such moments as these could ever come to pass.  
  
"Grima My Love, how long have you stood there?" she asked, her head tilted charmingly to one side in a questioning manner.  
  
"Long enough."  
  
"Have you come to tell us Thalie may not come with us? I shall sulk if you do." She said, pouting her delicious looking lips, making it hard for Grima to think for a moment.  
  
"No. Do not judge me so harshly, my Love. I have come to make sure that Thalie has all she will require for the journey." He said, his eyes never leaving hers.  
  
Thalie, amused by the silent exchange between the two, chuckled happily, amused by their obvious absorption in one another. When it was established that all was well, Grima left to meet Mirghast and Legolas, and passed a surprisingly pleasant supper before retiring, getting the much-needed rest before their journey was to begin the next morning.   
  
That night was passed soundly by some, with others dreaming of the events to come, some with anticipation, some with dread.  
  
A.N.  
  
I am sorry this chapter has been so long in coming! I have since the last update been inundated with work from the summer course I am taking, but if it is an acceptable excuse, I am receiving consistently high marks, and I hope my dedication to improving my language skills is paying off.  
  
So many thanks toy the people who have so kindly reviewed my work so far! If you would be so inclined, I have also started a new story, entitled "Jewelled Promises", which I will update alternately with this tale until both reach their conclusion.  
  
Your faithful scribe,  
  
SteerpikeSister 


	4. The Journey Begins

Chapter 4

The journey begins

The group that left Vashkah the next morning was a strange one. Moira and Fyrim led the procession along the dark path through the forest, then Diagon riding with Mirghast, with Grima by his side. Mirghast had undergone a change that morning, disguising himself as a Rhunlander by shaving his face and arms of all hair, and lightening his skin with chalk powder.

Legolas, who rode behind, was cloaked and hooded as no amount of dye could change his golden hair or disguise his pointed ears. Grama Grawly rode beside the Elf, who had assuaged his doubts that he was an unwelcome presence, but nevertheless encouraged him not to draw attention to himself unless it became necessary.

The journey to the Royal City proved longer that Eowyn had thought, and urging her mare up beside Grima's, she asked him how much farther they had to go.

"Many more days, I am afraid my Lady. This forest is bigger than Mirkwood twice over."

"But how could that be?" Eowyn cried, "The map I have seen shows it as no bigger than Lorien at best!"

Grima laughed, "Ah, yes…that map is very old, my Lady. It was made when the first rangers reported their impressions of our Middle Earth. I laughed out loud when I saw the map you speak of, not long after I came to Rohan. Clearly, the Ranger who had travelled in my homeland had merely skirted the Sea's edge, for there is far more forest than would fit on that map."

"But why? Surely no Kingsman would be so lax in his duties?"

"It seems you have forgotten what the Rangers were before the King of Gondor took it upon himself to form them into a proper force. In the early days they were mere wanderers; some witless, others mad, outcasts and criminals wandering the wilderness for reasons known only to themselves. Their King knows this himself, having travelled as a Ranger for many years before his ascent to the Throne of his Forbears."

"I can not help but wonder what could hide in a forest of the size you describe." Eowyn replied with a thoughtful expression.

"Then I will enlighten you. We travel to the Olyphant grazing lands."

Eowyn's eyes widened with amazement.

"Is it true? Will we see them?" she gasped.

"If you wish it, it will be done." Grima smiled, "though I hope their numbers have increased in recent years. The Dark Lord captured many to serve in his armies- they were the main reason for his vicious attacks upon my land…the Oliyphaunts, and those he took for slaves." He continued with a trace of bitterness and they continued thence in reflective silence.

In the days that followed an easy camaraderie settled upon the troop, Eowyn building up a strong liking for young Diagon, who would often ride with her instead of Fyrim or Mirghast, who, he told her suppressing a cheeky giggle, smelt of rats.

When they made camp at night, when the evening meal was over, they would gather around the campfire and sing songs or tell stories until late, sometimes Diagon struggling to stay awake to hear one more story, or one more song, but eventually falling asleep with his head resting in Eowyn's lap. While he slept the innocent sleep of his youth, the serious talking would begin, often falling upon the subject of Grima and Eowyn's Marriage and how it would affect Grima's claim to the Throne.

Grama Grawly, to whom Grima had told the entirety of his past and who understood her nephew's desire to keep to the shadows, had pondered the situation whenever she had a spare moment, and had thought through many of the situations that could come to light under the gaze of the Elders. Although outwardly she seemed to accept Grima's reluctance, she thought to herself that Grima should ascend, and that, like Eowyn had also surmised, Grima would be the good king that this dark and secretive country needed after its many years of terror and hardship.

If, She reasoned to the group, problems should arise with Diagon's youth, then the most natural recourse would be for Grimaulkin to adopt him as his son and heir, ruling as regent until Diagon came of age. This seemed prudent to all but Grima, who harboured a bitter resentment that he would thus be allocated the role of "Kings advisor" once again, but kept this to himself as was his want. All Grima wished, he told them, was to return home and live out his life in obscurity.

When at last they came in sight of the black marble towers of Askantai, they made camp for the last time.

Their last meal as a group was a solemn affair, everyone sensing that their brief period of merriment was over, and that the next night they would sleep in real beds once more, after tiring negotiations and questioning by the Elders of Rhun.

That night Grima drew Eowyn and Grama Grawly aside to broach a difficult problem to the Lady of Rohan.

"My Lady…" Grima begun nervously, not wanting to upset his betrothed yet wishing to impress upon her the necessity of this enterprise, "please do not misunderstand me in this, but I have thought on the way here that it might be prudent to conceal your identity, as we have done the Ranger and the Elf."

Eowyn looked at him intently.

"What would you have me do, my Lord? Wear a hood for this whole trip? Or dye my hair?"

"Not quite. At length, it might be necessary to reveal your identity should my worthiness come into question" Grima replied, causing Eowyn to remember the discussion she had had with Grima when the royal messenger had come to their little village.

Grama Grawly took her hand, and told her;

"As a betrothed woman it is expected that you would wear your intended husband's crest upon your clothes, and I have taken the liberty of crafting several dresses for you upon which the Grey emblem might be seen- it is best you wear these while in the City, but also…." She looked to Grima to continue, who bent to retrieve a package that had lain at his feet, drawing from it a small white hood that he gave to her.

"I would wish you to wear this as well, if you do not mind." He said almost anxiously.

Eowyn held up the hood to inspect it. It was a very pretty white hood, really several veils that draped from a headband embroidered in gold and grey, with tiny crystals studding its circumference that would cover her head and hair most adequately. At the front, where sheer cloth would conceal her face yet she would be able to see thorough easily, there was more delicate embroidery, again in grey and gold, in intricate whirls and sigils; it was a stunning thing.

"Grima! It is beautiful! Of course I will wear it. But tell me; do women dress like this in Askantai?"

"It is a traditional garment for an unmarried Royal woman, and my crest upon your dress will show to whom you belong, so you will not be accosted or challenged in any way."

Eowyn drew out one of the dresses from the package; it seemed they were all to be in white, grey and gold. The sleeves were voluminous, which pleased her. To be wearing any short-sleeved garment irritated her, accustomed by her rank to the marks of nobility of Rohan; the long trailing sleeves.

Grima's Crest adorned the breast of the garment, very prominent in its size, almost covering her torso completely. She laughed when she saw it; the emblem was appropriate. A grey shield edged in gold, with three green snakes against a background of clouds and stars, picked out in gold and tiny crystals to match the veil.

"They are beautiful, Grima; I will be honoured to wear your crest." She smiled, giving him a chaste yet tender kiss, under the watchful eye of Grama Grawly.

Eowyn sighed in his embrace, knowing that tomorrow he would no longer wear the buckskin leggings and rough cloth tunic she had become accustomed to seeing him in. instead he would wear a black velvet robe, his crest emblazoned upon his chest, with his grey cape and boots. He would also wear his sword and dagger; Eowyn was pleased when she was informed of this. Although Grima came on legitimate business, he was also a known accomplice in the Great War of the Ring, and she feared for his safety amongst strangers. Subconsciously, Eowyn was aware that in his black finery her Betrothed would seem more like the Grima who had aided the White Wizard, but put these thoughts firmly away, not wishing to ponder this visual reminder of his past. It seemed Grima was aware of this too, and hastened to remind her that he would only have to wear robes before the Elders, and that he would never wear black robes again. If he became king, he would wear green and grey instead of black and grey.

Eowyn was also secretly glad to don robes again; she had devised a way to secrete her sword and several other weapons upon her person without their being noticed, but such deception needed the insurance of voluminous clothing.

That morning they breakfasted on cold cooked meats and fruits, before setting out to greet the dark towers before them. The jagged black spires soon came into greater focus as they left the forest and could see the city in all its imposing glory.

Seemingly hewn from a mountain of black marble, carved and polished until it shone in the early morning light, Eowyn gasped at the sight. Immediately she understood that this remarkable edifice resembled the people whose capital it was; dark and imposing, yet strong and resilient. Yet as they approached she noticed that the lower levels had suffered terribly; during the attacks by the Orcs of Mordor, she supposed. The surrounding fields seemed littered with small pieces of black rubble, the intricately carved buildings scored and broken.

As they approached the gates the Guards, very fierce looking in their red leather uniforms and vicious looking halberds came forward to question them, understandingly distrustful of their innocent looking troop. Grima answered their questions unflinchingly, informing them that they were here representing The Heirs of Ogrem from Vashkah in the south. Legolas and Mirghast were ignored; it seemed their disguises had the required effect. On regarding Eowyn, however, veiled and anonymous, they began a more thorough enquiry.

"Who is this Lady who bears your crest, Lord Greymist?" they asked suspiciously. Grima replied with a tone that showed his resentment at this lack of proper etiquette.

"This Noble Lady is my Betrothed, her name is Gwyn, of Far Harad." And with this terse comment they would have to be content, for Grima led his people through the gates, heeding no more questions from the incredulous guards. Eowyn was glad of this; she had felt sure they had intended to require her veil to be removed, and did not wish to be recognised for a Rohirrim. She supposed she must also answer to "Gwyn" from now on.

Upon reaching the castle Grima repeated their names and reasons and were shown rooms in the north tower. Eowyn and Thalie elected to share a room, as did Legolas and Mirghast, taking a room beside Eowyn and Thalie. Diagon and his adopted parents took the room at the other side, Grima the one opposite, with his Aunt.

That afternoon was spent unpacking and settling in before taking supper with the rest of the court that evening. Soon after they arrived Thalie drew a bath for Eowyn, laughing that she had found herself back in her former role of handmaiden after all this time. But this was said in fun, and Eowyn laughed with her as she bathed her weary limbs and allowed Thalie to brush out her hair.

Their rooms were very pleasant, Eowyn considered. Although of necessity dark, carved as they were from black marble, she wound the white wall hangings countered this, as did the wide windows with their trailing white drapes. The floors were warmed by numerous fur rugs, and the wooden furniture gleamed a warm brown shade; a pleasant room indeed.

For that evening's meal, Eowyn chose another crested robe, one with a pale green underskirt and slashed furbelows, and Asked Thalie to coil her hair high upon her head before donning the white veil Grima had given her. After this Thalie pronounced her ready, and they joined their troop once more as they were directed to the great hall by numerous scurrying pages.

Upon reaching the crowded hall they were seated together and were served their meal of assorted Rhunland delicacies, all of which, Grima assured a doubtful Eowyn, were perfectly palatable. Leaving a neglected plate of strange squirming things that a smiling page had served her, Eowyn was thankful that the meal was soon over, and left Grima to introduce himself to the Elders in preparation for the inevitable debate which should begin within the week, when all those who stood for the old king had arrived. As Grama Grawly was one of the Elders, She trusted that Grima should have no troubles that night; his aunt would make sure of that.

Returning to her rooms, accompanied by Legolas and Mirghast, the four friends talked for a time and played some dice before retiring to their beds, sleeping restlessly for what would be the outcome of this adventure.


	5. Chapter five: the first day

Chapter five

The first day.

That morning dawned to a great roar and the thundering sound that caused Eowyn leap out of bed and run for her sword, convinced that the armies of the world had descended in the night. Thalie, having ran first to the window, hastened to calm her and show her the real source of the thunder.

Oliyphaunts; hundreds of them, all draped in fine cloth and golden ornaments!

They came to a swaying halt in the courtyard where it was observed by the many people looking through their windows, that a large number of people bearing flags and pennants alighted from the backs of the enormous beasts, and marched smartly into the castle.

When the spectacle was over, Eowyn and Thalie hastened to dress and find the others before rushing down to the hall to see what had happened. It seemed that everyone else in the castle had the same idea; the hall was thronged with nobles and commoners alike, all straining to hear the conversation between the apparent leader and the Elders.

"Yes, Elder, I am called Prince Erizumas Thornalder, son of Princess Oleanda Thornstar, Daughter of King Ogrem." The imperious man declared before the crowd. He was a tall, handsome man, with the characteristic pale skin and dark hair of those Rhunborn, but his features were sharp and angular, his eyes black and shining from within. His raven hair was cut close to his head, and curled a little. He wore grey and red leather, and a black cloak over his broad shoulders, and looked every inch a prince. As he smiled and played to the crowd, another elder shuffled forward, grasping at him with a wizened hand, intoning;

"Vash grahagr spanz outré vasokah?"

The people were hushed, waiting anxiously to hear the ancient reply that would ascertain his place as a Rhunlander.

"Nasha sohka ni minen mah vasti. Nasami mynuen!" he said.

That night Grima was in a foul mood. He sat at the far end of the table and picked at his food, only looking up to scowl at the new Prince, surrounded by nobles all listening eagerly to his every word. It seemed obvious to Grima that this would be the man the Elders chose, yet Eowyn and the others seemed determined to remind him that there was still a chance for him, as if he cared. And yet, it seemed he did care somewhat. He did not want to be king, he told himself silently, but he hoped that this prince was a good man, and could rule well.

If it should come about that he was deemed unsuitable, should he offer his services once more? He debated the question as he sat in silence, watching the charming young man giving the nobles a show.

These noble men and women should know better than to fawn over someone who called himself prince on the most tenuous strength, he mused, having noticed unlike the others that his paternal linage had not once been mentioned, or that the men he had brought with him were haradrian in origin, and acted more like corsairs than cohorts.

But then, had he not learned in his youth what the fickle and feckless highborn were truly like? He had lived among them for many years, a student at the royal college, the impatient and inquisitive child turned dedicated scholar. What lessons the Elders taught however, he had far surpassed with his insatiable craving for knowledge; he had read every book in the castle within a year, and had many committed to a memory that was still precise even now. It was this thirst that had finally driven him to leave the Rhunland, having secured the place of ambassador, and leaving to see the world outside the Rhun.

His thoughts having led him to an uncomfortable time in his murky past, its darkness punctuated only with occasional vivid flashes of golden hair in golden halls, of laughter and sunlight, he turned to the woman beside him, veiled and silent, taking her hand and feeling the warmth that emanated from her, the silkiness of her skin, and the love that they shared, so miraculous in its intensity that just the thought of it caused his eyes to mist over.

Later that night Eowyn had left the Hall to return to her rooms, only to come upon the Fêted Prince Thornalder, who had somehow shaken his entourage and was leaning against a cavernous fireplace, a goblet of something black and sticky in his other hand that he set down when he noticed the veiled lady approaching.

"And where might you be going, my ghostly one?" he said smiling pleasantly.

Eowyn suppressed a shiver; she felt that this man was not all he seemed, and the thought made her uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he stood at the junction of the corridors that led to her rooms, which meant she would have to pass him to get there.

"I am returning to my rooms, Your Highness." She replied, disliking to use his title that tasted bitter to her palate. Once again she wished she had some of Grima's diplomacy; she was glad she wore a veil or else he could see the expression of distaste she wore.

"Are you sure you weren't looking for me?" he asked, his eyes lolling in his head. Suddenly he reached out and tried to grab her, but Eowyn was quicker and dodged his clumsy assault with ease. He was quite drunk, Eowyn realised, and took the opportunity to walk past him and proceed at the fastest pace she could without running.

Upon reaching her rooms she hastily wrote a note for Grima, asking him to come to talk to her when he received it, and rang for a page to take it to him. When the boy had gone, Eowyn sat on her bed and tried to straighten her thoughts. The Prince Thornalder was not the courtly and good-natured young man he had seemed to be; in truth he was a lecherous drunk, and had a sinister air that she could not dispel. She was glad Grima was coming, as the thoughts of the Prince having followed her to these apartments filled her with apprehension.

A familiar hesitant tapping at her door woke Eowyn from her reverie, and she rose quickly to open it. She clung to Grima for a reassuring moment before telling him what had transpired in the short time they were apart.

Grima had held her close and soothed her troubled brow with the precaution that Thalie or one other of their delegation should always be with her, even as she slept.

Privately, Grima was furious, with both the Prince and himself, for being so negligent in his vows to protect her. He resolved to watch this royal interloper with all his powers in the future; this indiscretion would cost him dearly.

As his lady lay asleep with her handmaiden at her side, her thoughts guided gently away with a herbal draught, Grima roamed the corridors, his mind full of apprehension, his arms held tight against the cold wind that blew only for him, none else in the land so twisted with worry for someone they loved.

She is so vulnerable, he thought, though she does not let anyone see. Beneath that strong armour she was still capable of feeling hurt, and feared it. The mere thought of her pain twisted him further still as he walked in the night. How could anyone hurt another? His thoughts having led him back to where he started, outside his lady's apartments, he sank to the floor, resolved to watch over her this night, and forever after.


	6. Chapter Six : the second day

Chapter Six

The Second Day.

When the people of Vashkah gathered in Eowyn and Thalie's apartment to break fast Grima informed them of the night's developments and the instructions he expected that they carry out.

"This must not happen again. Although it may seem trivial in the light of day, I assure you, it could have been much worse." Grima informed them, taking her hand and holding it to his heart. "Eowyn's safety, as well as our own, must not be infringed ever again. Do not walk anywhere alone, and in groups of more than two if possible. Thalie," he addressed the young handmaiden, "you must never leave my lady's side for an instant. Legolas and Mirghast, may I charge you with their protection once more?" he asked the two sturdy warriors, knowing what their answer would be yet not wishing to order them to obey his instructions as they were not his to instruct.

"Upon my honour, I shall ever be steadfast in their defence." Replied Legolas solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation that caused all thoughts of licence to scatter.

"As will I. I am honoured by your trust in me, my friend." Said Mirghast, with a smile. Grima took his hand and shook it with a similar smile. Something passed between them that instant; the hunters and their former foe, now aligned against a mutual enemy and the understanding of the respect and friendship that had developed between them all through the events leading up to this moment.

They were united, and would stand up to whatever the future threw their way, and so unified, made their way through the castle to the hall of Audience, where the Elders met to determine the fate of their people.

On this the first day of questioning the Elders saw fit to bring before them the three who had come to claim the Throne to be asked three questions each, as was their custom. The first to be brought to the stand was the youngest, Diagon Greyveldt.

As everyone looked on, Diagon stumbled to the front and bowed before the elders as he had been instructed. This was cruel, Eowyn thought, wishing she could be by his side as he shivered and stuttered at the Elder's questions.

"What is your Parentage, child?" The Elder asked, with blatant condescension.

"I…my…Father was Dagreth Gr..Greythorn …My Mother was Grizelda Greymist…."

"And your age?" the Elder sighed.

"I am n-not yet nine years, Elder." The frightened child stuttered.

Eowyn was furious at this treatment; could they not see how scared he was? She longed to gather him up and shield the delicate child from the penetrating gaze of these elderly strangers who seemed not to care for the child's feelings, but restrained herself, promising him silently that as soon as they released him, he would be removed to the arms of those who cared for him.

"And do you feel you are capable of ruling a country, at your age?" the elder droned disinterestedly.

Diagon looked for help in the crabbed, unfamiliar faces surrounding him, and finding only the eyes of his Grama looking with tenderness, the poor child burst into fretful tears.

"Take him away." Droned the Elder spokesman, but Eowyn was already there, and had him back amongst his family almost before the elder had finished speaking. Once more seated in the gallery, she watched while Moira held her foster-child, soothing him with tender words before taking him back to their quarters, with Fyrim and Mirghast following in accordance with Grima's instructions that morning. And so Eowyn was left with Legolas and Thalie to watch as the Prince took his place before the Elders, ready to be questioned.

"Prince Thornalder," croaked Elder Maygar, "Are we to understand that you led, unaided, the rescue of our surviving people from the depths of Mordor?"

"Yes, Elder. Although I am saddened to report that many of the hostages succumbed to the brutal treatment they had received before we could get them home." The prince replied with a downcast sigh.

"And the men you led…were they also hostages?"

"Yes. The men I had grown up with, Elder, as all were who were not in the pay of the Dark Lord. We few able-bodied and willing gathered all we could find and escaped the fighting by travelling further east, over the mountains into the unknown lands. When it seemed the danger had passed, a contingent of our troops led our frightened and helpless women and children to the Rhun, and returned to help exterminate the last of the foul beasts that infested the dead lands to the south."

"Very well. Now I wish to hear from Lord Greymist, son of Prince Galmod Greymire."

Eowyn fought to control the beating of her heart. She reached out and was comforted by Thalie and Legolas who sat beside her, Mirghast behind. The hall was filled to overflowing with Erhundai, eager to hear from their prospective rulers. Eowyn watched as her Beloved took his place before the assembled elders, and wished she could have sat beside him.

But even through her fear, she could see that Grima stood tall and proud, his haughty bearing making him seem every inch the natural choice even though she understood that he did not want to be king. His concern for is country would out, she thought. His love for his land and his people must show.

"Lord Greymist, you are the child of a Bastard Prince, yet you stand before us. How could that be?"

Grima considered quickly. The Elders knew the answer to this question, but left it to him to explain the circumstances of his birth and prove his legitimacy before the crowd. This was no threat, and so he would answer it.

"It is true that my Father was not himself in the line of his Father, but it is known that His brother Ogrem decreed that Galmod's legitimate offspring were to be stood for by him, and so I am as secure in my claim as would the King's Son be, were he still among the living."

"Is this true, Elders?" Maygar addressed the assembled seniors.

"So it be." They chorused, satisfied with Grima's Claim to the Throne. Now would come the real questions, and the real test of Grima's talent for language.

"Lord Greymist, it is known that you have only recently returned to your homeland. For what reason did you stay so long away?"

This was a clever question, Grima thought. If what I say is too positive, they may imply disloyalty to my country, and yet if I am too negative they may ask what reason did I have to stay away from a land I love?

"My Elders," he replied carefully "I left my homeland as an ambassador, intending to ascertain the political climate in the lands outside, hoping eventually to secure help in our ongoing struggle against the aggressors from Mordor, who have slaughtered, decimated and massacred our people in undeclared war since the Dark Lord's relocation there so many hundreds of years ago. I left my beloved land, seeking, and failing, to save you all."

The Elders looked shocked at this impassioned tale, yet continued with their questioning as the seeds Grima had planted sought to germinate in their minds. Blast the Stars, Grima thought; I may yet argue myself into the throne if this goes on!

The Elder Maygar regained his composure enough to ask the last of the three questions allowed them to each claimant that day.

"Lord Greymist, what reason do you have to think you could rule a country?" he said almost hesitantly, the quaver in his voice belying his great age.

This was the most important question. I must not let them guess at the darkness behind me, Grima prayed to whatever God looked after him, the desperate penitent, the Worm that had turned to savage its Master.

"My Lords, you know of the Great War that we have fought against the Dark Lord. What I have to tell may surprise you, but I swear upon my life and that of my betrothed, what I tell you now is true. As in the years before the war, I ruled the great country of Rohan while its ailing King could not. I guided that Golden Kingdom to greatness while Theoden-King lay Sick, and when he recovered enough to lead his people once more, I left Rohan.

"Soon after, I found myself with the greatest fighting force ever conceived, and was instrumental in the battle of Helms Deep, the Rohirrim's armoured stronghold, who's people enjoyed a glorious victory, helped by the Elven Army. As that force charged eastward, I followed the White Wizard to his final battle, in the Halfling Homeland known to all as the Shire. There, after much struggle, I slew the Evil Wizard, slit his throat so he could do no more evil, with this very blade I hold before you."

Grima held up his dagger for all to see, its blade still blackened from the mordant blood it had spilled, yet shining in Eowyn's eyes like a jewel beyond price! Eowyn gloried in his triumph anew, his masterly intellect transforming all his misguided deeds into a natural progression that led to his disposing of a force of unspeakable malevolence, who's atrocities had reached even the insular ears of this distant land. Surely the Erhundai could not dismiss this magnificent speech!

All was silence.

Finally Elder Grawly addressed the court.

"I propose to suspend discussion until tomorrow. Then may Diagon be questioned before us once more, and other matters of importance addressed."

When the other Elders motioned their agreement everyone filed out of the hall, eager to discuss the events of that day, leaving all but Grima and his followers, Grama Grawly, and the Prince. As Eowyn rushed to be held by her beloved, the Prince addressed them with a caustic voice.

"You may have won this day, my Friend, but rest assured you will be banished to your backwater again before long." He said before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall.

Eowyn held Grima tight, so relieved was she.

"My Lord," she cried breathlessly, throwing back her veil to gaze upon him with uncovered eyes.

"You were wonderful!" she told his smiling countenance, paying no heed to the threat implied by the bested Prince; no threat could spoil this moment.

"You were that," Mirghast added, "Never have I seen such creative rhetoric."

"Nor have I." Replied Legolas with a thoughtful smile.

"Ha! It all went as I expected, " Sniffed Grama Grawly. "That young sapling might have the looks and the charm, but the elders know greatness when they see it, and if they don't, I'll soon make them see." She added gruffly, trying not to grin.

Grima sighed in Eowyn's fervent embrace; her proximity threatened to drive his thoughts from what had just transpired, but address the situation he must, and so set her away with a tender kiss upon her cheek.

"We must not forget our purpose here. I do not intend to win this battle, unless it can be proved that this prince is unsuitable, and then I will argue for Diagon. Although we have reason to believe that this prince is not worthy, we must have proof to bring before the elders. But enough of this; come, I have arranged for us to feast in a private room. Let us retire there." Grima smiled at his betrothed as he led her away from the hall; he had a surprise planned for the morrow, and must see she got her rest.

AN: I'm sorry this took so long, but rest assured, there will be more to come. Thank you for your patience!

SteerpikeSister


	7. Chapter 7

My apologies for taking so long with this instalment. The others should not be long in coming now. Only know this, the Chronicles of the Rhunland will continue: as you read I will be outlining the third in the series, Chronicles of Rhunland three, Riders in the Sky.

Chapter Seven

The Third Day

The enveloping darkness of another Rhunland night brought no rest to the Villagers that night. Secluded in their rooms in the castle, one of the three heirs to the Throne lay unconscious, his body wracked with a terrible fever. He had complained of a slight illness after the evening meal and had retired early to his bed, watched over by Grama Grawly who soothed his heated brow with water and kind words until he fell into a restless sleep. When the other villagers sought to retire for the night she went to him again but could not rouse him, his slumber deep and dark as the waters of the Inland Sea.

All through the night Grama Grawly, Eowyn and Moira, watched over his delirious dreams as the fever stole what little life he possessed. By the first watch of the night Eowyn had lost all faith in his power to pull himself from the cold waters he floundered in, and tried desperately to think of Rohirrim cures that Grama might not know.

"There must be something we can do for him?" she said, distraught.

"I know of nothing more, but Grimaulkin may be of use here. Go, girl; fetch him!" Grama charged her, her face pale with worry. This small boy was all that was left of the next generation of her family, and with a heavy heart she hoped she would not be burying another in the days to follow.

Fumbling with her veil, The Lady of Rohan found herself before Grima's door, and knocked tentatively. The darkness of the hallway seemed to be preparing to assault her, and strange shapes formed in her vision as she waited for her Betrothed to answer. Suddenly the door opened into yet more shadows, and Eowyn stepped forward, unafraid, intro the gloom.

Instantly Eowyn recognised the sound of wind on steel and felt the chill of a dagger at her throat and a strong arm around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, Not daring to breathe, Eowyn waited for what seemed an eternity before her assailant spoke.

"Who sent you? Speak quickly or this blade will find its home in your throat!" the voice rasped, sending a shock down her spine.

"G…Grima?" she whimpered, cursing that her voice sounded so weak to her ears. At once she felt the blade removed and the arm around her lifted. With the strike of tinder the room was illuminated, revealing her betrothed before her, his eyes shadowed and afraid.

"My Lady!" he cried out, "I am most terribly sorry! I thought…but no. I am sorry, my Lady, for what just transpired. I had awoken from a strange dream…I felt that my life was in danger, and to be woken thusly in the middle of the night, my sleep-addled mind assumed evil intent upon me."

Eowyn breathed once more, inhaling in a calming breath the scent of her Love, who's breath reminded her of pine woods and the predatory animals who made such a place their home. At once, in one breath, he was all that was strong and untamed, and she flung herself into his welcoming arms, holding her in his velvet embrace, the fears and stresses of the past few days released in that rush of fear and its sudden reprieve.

"My Lord…" she whispered into his fur- lined robe, her tears drying in his loving warmth,

"You must help us. Diagon has the Fever, and nothing we know of will cure him." She looked at his shadowed eyes and smiled faintly. He took her hands in his and kissed them, the merest brush of skin to skin, that warmed her as he knew it would, and smiled back at her, the expression she treasured as it had been so long since she had seen him with his eyes so gentle.

"I will come. Give me but a moment to gather my things." He stooped to pick up his bundle from beneath his bed and followed Eowyn to Diagon's bedchamber.

The first thing Grima did upon arriving in the sickroom was to order the men folk from the room, then he laid out his tools and herbs by the bed. He felt for the pressure in his heart, noting his temperature as he did so. He stripped the sheets from the boy and opened the window, letting in the fresh night air.

"He must be cooled down," he said to the astonished women, who's knowledge of fever was that it must be increased to sweat out the evil that was making the poor child ill.

"His body is trying to heat the poison in the hope that it will become harmless, but in such a small child his blood may boil inside him before the poison leaves him."

"You suspect poison my Lord?" Eowyn asked, wide eyed in her astonishment. Grima nodded gravely. "He has all the signs."

"Then what can be done to save him? Please Grima!" she cried in desperation. She loved this gentle, intelligent child with whom she had shared many days and romps that he had become like her little brother in her mind.

"I will save him." Grima replied, bleakly assessing the situation that had befallen them.

Throughout the night Grima administered healing herbs and tinctures, compresses and tinctures, but to no avail. The boy's life was fading as quickly as the dawn's light increased, lighting the shadows, revealing pale faces and shadowed eyes. He had tried everything he could, but there was still no sign that could give them hope that Diagon might live.

"There is…no…I…." He stammered, his eyes searching the heavens as if to read the answer he sought in the stars.

Grama Grawly rose then from her place by Diagon's side and addressed her sister's son.

"Grimaulkin Greymist, you are the child of Graemae Vas Darrae, are you not?" she asked, her voice leaden with age and stone.

"Yes…" Grima answered, shielding his eyes from her sudden penetrating stare.

"And are you not her only living child?" she asked again.

"Yes…" Grima replied again.

"Then you know what you must do. I will leave, for my spirit may hinder, but if he dies…" she looked down then, as if her last energy was spent and had left her an old, wretched woman as she closed the door behind her.

"Grima…?" Eowyn whispered, unsure what to make of what had just transpired before her.

Grima stood as if drawing all the shadows of the night to him. He sank to his knees and held both his palms to his eyes as his body convulsed and tiny whimpers came from his lips. When he rose again, Eowyn gasped, for his white skin emitted its own light, and his eyes were black from lid to lid. He came forward and Eowyn shrank back, fearful of this new facet to her Love. His shining fingers reached out to touch Diagon upon his burning brow and he murmured something softly as his fingers traced cold patterns upon his fevered cheeks. Suddenly Diagon opened his eyes to gaze into the vast darkness of Grima's. After a time, Eowyn saw that the boy's skin had begun to glow with the same eerie light as Grima's emanated, then as quickly as it had happened, Diagon's eyes fluttered closed and he lay back.

Grima drew back and covered his eyes, wrapping himself in his velvet cloak and sobbing silently. Eowyn touched Diagon's forehead; it was cool, the fever had passed and he slept normally.

Silently she rose and approached Grima, her mind full of questions. He made no movement as she drew near, nor when she enfolded him in her arms, holding him close. She held him as his silent sobs turned to sighs, then to sleep. For what seemed like hours she held him, breathing in that fragrance that had come to mean so much to her, to remind her of the village left behind, of labours in spring sun, of gathering mushrooms at first light, of his smiles, touches, and secret tender caresses. Now it seemed it was her turn to shelter him as he worked through what had transpired, the saving of a life; but at what expense, Eowyn wondered.

As the dawn light shone through the open window, Grima stirred. At first he thought himself dead, that the nights exertions had drained him so entirely that he lay in the tender embrace of some child of the afterlife, but his eyes opened to those of the creature he loved more than life, and was suddenly filled with such intense joy that his tears came again, and his heart felt as if it might burst when she leaned over and kissed those tears from his pale cheeks, his eyes, and his lips.

Please review, it really does inspire me!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

The Fourth Day

"You should have woken me." Grima whispered.

"That I would not do," Eowyn looked down at him tenderly,

"I have waited so long to hold you in my arms, I thought I should not waste this opportunity."

Grima shivered; such thoughts as her words inspired needed purged from his mind before he rashly acted upon them: this he would never do. He got to his feet stiffly, and offered her his arm. She took it, smiling, before dancing the few steps to Diagon's bedside. He turned over as she felt his forehead; he was fine.

The pair left the room silently with a care to make no noise- the poor boy would need to rest after his brush with mortality.

Silently they approached Eowyn's door, where Grima took her hand and kissed it, preparing to leave her to take the rest he knew she would require

"Shhh…" whispered Eowyn, and guided his lips to hers for one shining, tender moment before he pulled away. She implored him with her eyes, whose luminescence promised a wealth of secrets revealed and affection unrestrained.

"My Lord, what transpired between you and Diagon that you could cure his ailment so swiftly?"

Grima replied with a sad expression. "What you saw was the Witch Power that came from my mother's line. She was a most powerful woman. The healing ability I possess is but a shadow of hers, but it has increased with the deaths of my brother and sister. I am her only surviving child, and as such inherit her legacy. I removed the poison from his body with my spirit-touch, as we call it. In time I ma become a Warlock, but the chances of that are small indeed. Diagon will live, but be weak for a long time. He was ever prone to illness, as you may remember, and as such, his healing ability is strained."

Eowyn's eyes flashed with sudden anger and she stiffened, removing her hands from his.

"You can heal poison." She said, her voice toneless and expressionless. Her thoughts had returned to the time when her cousin Theodred lay dying, his life slipping away as Diagon's had almost done.

"Yes, my Lady, but only after the deaths of my family. My power then, in the time I know you think of, was minor, as I have since learned my sister who was my Mother's Heir, still lived. Had she been dead, I could have saved your Cousin Theodred."

"You could not have saved him." She sighed, knowing in her heart that Grima spoke the truth; she could not condemn him for his failure. She looked up then, resigned and saw the tears on her Betrotheds cheeks, his silent sobs.

"My…My sister was still alive then…Grizy, who laughed, and danced…" he stammered, the weight of his loneliness crushing him; the deaths of his brother and sister becoming at once real in his mind leaving him alone in the world with only Diagon bearing his blood.

Eowyn held him close once more feeling totally ineffectual in her pathetic attempt to soothe him. Her own emotions being so far from her control, this urge to soothe and alleviate his pain was alien to her. When Theodred died she had been distraught, but unconnected, as if she had merely watched from someone else's eyes. In a very small way she had been upset because his death meant that her own future was placed in jeopardy. It had long been accepted the she would marry her cousin, and then this certainty was removed by his untimely demise. Eventually Grima seemed to compose himself, and addressed her.

"I must rest, and so should you, My Lady. I will come to you later." Eowyn returned his gaze with solemn eyes.

"We must find out who poisoned Diagon."


	9. Chapter 9

After a few hours of much needed rest, both Eowyn and Grima awoke in time to partake of the mid day meal, although few of their party had much stomach for the unfamiliar fare set out before them. The news of Diagon's illness had been suppressed, and the boy himself was being kept in his room, attended by Grama Grawly and eating only fruits and vegetables, as these could not easily be tampered with. It was agreed upon that they should act as if the boy was still gravely ill instead of slowly recovering, so that the person responsible might reveal himself or herself through unwarranted questioning concerning his health.

And so the meal passed gravely, with those who had the skills listening for whispers amongst the courtiers assembled in the great hall, and those who had the wits attempting to fathom who the poisoner could be. Of course, this in itself was a forgone conclusion: Prince Thornalder was the only person in the court who could gain from removing one of the Heirs to the Throne at this late stage in the game, apart from Grima himself.

With this thought, Grima at once arose from the table and summoned the villagers to him. When once again secluded in a private parlour, Grima addressed the group;

"We must make haste. Moira, Fyrim, will you give Diagon to me? In name and line only?" he asked the startled couple.

"You wish to adopt him? But why now?" Fyrim asked, nervously stroking his buckskin leggings with his gnarled hands. In the time since his mother's death they had raised Diagon as he had been their own child and although he had thought this event might come to pass, he did not understand why it should be accomplished with such haste.

"This plot may be seeded deeper than we know; Thornalder may try to lay the blame for Diagon's death upon me, thus clearing the way for his own ascent. Remember his parting words to us? This may be both his revenge and his route to triumph. Blast the stars!" Grima raged,

"We would have a poisoner and villain for a king! I must adopt Diagon. Once he is my legal heir, we should both be safe from whatever unnatural deaths the bastard prince would wish upon us!" with this, Grima all but ran to Diagon's bedchamber.

After impressing the need for this impromptu ceremony upon the small boy as best they could, Grama returned with three elders in tow to act as witnesses to the event.

"Diagon, do you accept me as your father-of-the-line, and promise to raise your children in my line? Grima intoned solemnly.

Diagon, flushed and anxious, replied; "Yes, you are the father of my line. I am Diagon, son of Grimaulkin, Greyveldt of Greymist."

"I accept you, Diagon, as Son of my Line. May our blood tie us ever stronger, and our lines lead to greatness." Grima completed the ceremony by making small cuts in the palm of both his and Diagon's hands and catching the drops of blood that emerged in a cup of wine from which they both then sipped. After this the elders left to announce the adoption to the still assembled court, not noticing the Kingsman Mirghast, who had remained behind with orders to watch and remember who looked angry or upset at the news.

There was only one.

Thornalder.

That afternoon the Elders once again began their questioning. When all were assembled before them, the Elders called for the Heirs to announce themselves, and all were present to hear of Diagon's disqualification due to his adoption, and the significance of one of their applicants providing them with a secure succession should they choose him was not lost upon them, old as they were. As Grima intended they perceived his stature as greater than before; it should not take much more to discredit the treacherous prince who had once sought to defile his betrothed, Grima mused.

After the prince waxed lyrical about his plans for the rebuilding of the country, that being the chosen enquiry for that day, Grima asked for a short break to attend to his Son, who was unwell, and was granted his request. By his sleeping Son's bedside he whispered to the Lady Eowyn. He took her pale hand in his and regarded her lovely countenance once more, his expression intense with worry.

"My Dearest, I do not know with what to answer this next challenge. Thornalder has presented a dream of a restoration, and I dare not for fear of failure. I must ask you; after our marriage, if all comes to pass, would you be able to command aid from Rohan?" he asked, his voice tremulous with expectation.

In truth he did not expect this intended marriage to take place; he had decided that very morning that the situation had become too fraught with danger for Eowyn and her attendants to remain in the Rhun much longer. In his love for her, he must cast her away to ensure she lived a full and happy life far away from the toils and tribulations of a life by his side. But, if she would stand before the elders and declare her right to aid from the land of her birth, then his claim might still be considered above Thornalder's fanciful tale of an easy reconstruction, told as if they were not a weak and broken people.

"In truth, my Lord, I do not know. It is to be hoped that such may never come to pass, and that none who know me ever seek to see me here, as such may mean your death and mine, as traitors to Rohan."

"But could you not claim aid as a princess of your land?"

Eowyn frowned, her pale brows drawn together in thought. "

"There is something…Grima, I think I may come to you as a queen in my own right, from ancient law I may claim a vast kingdom for my own."

"Of what do you speak?" Grima replied, puzzled.

"In the final battle before the black gate, I slaughtered the Witch King of Angmar. And their being none of his line left to claim it, by right of conquest it is mine."

Grima looked at her amazed. Taking her hand he raised it to his lips.

"My Queen…."

"My Lord?" Eowyn smiled at Grima, ice yes flashing. He would not be letting her leave now, he knew. This news cheered him immensely. Even if her brother should disown her, she was still a queen, of a fertile and untamed land that had grown, since its destruction, into a land that resembled both of their homes. He knew, as it had not been a year since he had passed through it himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Before Eowyn had time to answer Legolas burst into the room, his elven eyes alight with excitement.

"My Lord and Lady!" he cried, "Mirghast is before the Elders! A Page has been found dead in the Prince's apartments, with one of his own guard swearing he acted upon the Prince's orders! Mirghast saw all, and has been brought to bear testimony against the Prince, who rails and cries out in anguish that the guard speaks untruths!"

within moments the crowd had reassembled in the Great Hall, news of the murder having reached their ears faster than fire across a field.

"What is the truth of this?" Magyar roared at the Prince, who was restrained between two Russet Guards, another two holding the accused soldier, another bearing the body of the murdered Pageboy, a sight to harden many a heart against one who would order and perpetrate such heinous slaughter.

"My Lord, I know naught!" the Prince cried ineffectually, struggling to be free of his captors' forceful hold.

The Kingsman spoke up to the Elders;

"Let his soldier tell you what he was about! I saw and heard all, but acted to late to save his life." Mirghast said, gesturing to the lifeless child in sonorous tones.

"Soldier, Speak! Your life rests upon your murdering tongue!" the elder growled, echoing the feelings of the room.

The swarthy corsair spat at the guards holding him. "I was ordered to kill the boy, aye. And take the poison from him, too."

The elders gasped. "What poison is this you speak of?" Magyar asked, his anger steadily rising.

"The Poison that the Prince ordered the Page to serve the boy Heir. My orders were to kill him when I found him again, and I did so."

"My Lord, he admits it freely." Mirghast addressed the Elders once more. "It is well that the Boy lives."

Magyar shook his head; "One life lost for one life saved; it is not thought that one is above the other. When there are so few of us left, one young life is as precious as a score. Imprison the soldier, Loyal Askantans." Magyar commanded the guards, before turning to Mirghast, regarding him with righteous eyes.

"Young man, it seems we have much to thank you for. Without your eyes and ears we might have permitted a Villain to Rule our beloved darkland. In as such, you shall be rewarded as is in our means."

Upon hearing these words the Prince howled in anguish, all his plans come to naught. "Please, My Lord! I know nothing of these events! It is all a plot to discredit me!" he sobbed, his once handsome face contorted with rage.

"In that you need have no fear. It may surprise you, but we have not been lax in conducting our own investigations among the hostages you claimed to have rescued. None have heard of a Prince Thornalder. They told us instead of a cruel slave-trader who drove them into the east intending to sell them to the highest bidder, changing his mind upon the slaying of one of our Court Messengers, who carried documents pertaining to our search for the Heirs of Ogrem.

"You are a charlatan, a deceiver, and a murderer. And as the bearer of such titles, you are henceforth banished from the Rhun, and shall endure a long and tortured demise should you be found once more within its boundaries. Guards, take him away."

"I declare before this court of nobles and the Council of Elders, that Lord Grimaulkin Greymist, Son of Galmod Greymire, standing for the Line of Thorn, is to be crowned our King, as soon as arrangements can be made." Magyar smiled. With the official declaration over with, the excitement in the whole of the city was tangible. It seemed to Eowyn that the very rock the city was made of trembled with excitement at the thought of the upcoming celebration. With the villain already on his way to the border and his troops outcast, Eowyn's thoughts turned more and more to the future

It had been three days since the dramatic events that had turned the city upside down. The previous day the family of the murdered Page had gathered to bury him and receive his posthumous knighthood, passed to his father, for whom it was recompense for the young life given in service. It seemed that all the court had attended the funeral ceremony, and, Eowyn perceived, stayed to ingratiate themselves within the uncrowned King's favour.

Throughout the festivities Eowyn had kept to herself, at the edge if not in presence than in thought. In a pensive mood she wandered into the courtyard, perceiving a pool of water before her. As there was no one around to comment, she allowed herself the impulse to trail her fingers in the still clear water, seemingly transformed into a mirror by the reflective marble beneath its surface. As she gazed idly at her impassive reflection she thought she heard a voice, seemingly distant yet as cool breath upon her ear. …Destiny….

That evening there came a knock upon her chamber door, which Eowyn answered with a thoughtful smile. Grima stood there before her, clothed in a green velvet robe, his raven hair untied and flowing around him like a cowl, a troubled expression upon his pale face.

"Will you not enter, my Lord?" she asked in a musical tone, gesturing for Grima to follow her into the room and take a seat by the hearth. A fire roared in the huge fireplace, filling the high roofed chamber with enveloping warmth, its light crating dancing figures all about, reminding them both of the Golden Halls of the time which seemed so long ago. Grima looked at her, smiling gently, yet with sadness in his eyes. He sat down before the fire silently, his eyes downcast.

"Will you tell me what troubles you, my Lord?" Eowyn asked mellifluously, although she already sensed what weighed upon his mind.

"I am brought to a decision. I must ask you to release me from our betrothal, that you may return to Rohan, and there live the life that you were destined for." He said, his eyes averted.

"You would send me away, to live in a cage, without your love?" she asked tremulously. The air in the room seemed as heavy and silent as the enfolding darkness outside her window, the bleak, black expanse seemed to show her a picture of her life should Grima turn her aside.

"I would have you live the life of a Princess, of light and gold all around you; a life that I can not provide."

"Do you think me mad? That is but a gilded prison. Rohan was never for me; you know this, how I dreamed of seeing far distant lands that I learnt of through your diligent tutelage? That I might take my mare and ride with you to the ends of middle earth? I dreamed one day that I might see all these things because I came to know them, through you, and your presence in my life. And now I am here, in an unknown land full of wonderful strangeness, with you to love me and teach me how to live once more and you would tear my dream from me?" she wept ardently, her tears soaking her cheeks, her eyes imploring him to reconsider.

"I must! What awaits you here but thankless toil for a country of strangers? I know of your long cherished dreams, of your strength and spirit, but I could never subject you to a life lived by my side."

"Then here we see the truth! Your love for me has faltered in the eyes of your countrymen. Am I not good enough in their eyes? Could you give me up for them? If it is done with such ease then I begin to doubt your heart is living flesh; I think it is a construct of stone and ice!"

"I Love you! Do not doubt the wealth of passion I hold for you! It is with a tearing and rending of my fleshly heart that I give you up!"

"Then do not! I have no desire to return to Rohan, to be the Golden Princess that lives only in your mind! I am Eowyn, I am here, and I will never surrender my heart to darkness! I came here to kill you; instead I found I loved you, and with an untried heart I wanted to be naught but your wife. But now you are to be King, must you not have a Queen?"

Grima broke down, their tears threatening to drown them both in a sea of misery and despair. He fell to his knees, heaving great sighs and tremors assailed him as he cried, clutching her skirts.

"Would you be my Queen? A Queen of moonlight and shadows? For that is what is to come, should you stay. You would have to live not as yourself, but another, lest some wanderer carry tales of your presence and bring war upon my broken people once more. A life in darkness is what you would have, ever hiding from the light like some nocturnal creature, lest some piercing eye find you out and destroy you."

"I will take that chance!" Eowyn cried, suddenly filled with fire like never before. Her veins filled with the heat of battle as she once more fought for the lives of those she loved, exchanging weapons for words as she struggled to convince Grima of her love for him and his land.

"I say that I love you, I need you. What sign do you need from me that might prove my desire? No shadow will haunt you, my heart will not desert you, and no man will hurt you, no, not any place under my eye or at any time I still live and can hold a sword! Take this chance, Grima!" she seized his hands and held them before her, her tears burned dry with the heat of her impassioned declaration.

"No darkness shall take you from me, nay, not even the darkness within your heart, and I swear, as the river flows to the sea, I shall follow you until my dying breath!"

"Then you are condemned, for I can never give you up. I love you with all there is of me. My eyes know only your face. My hands can only feel your touch, and my every breath is a gift from you." Grima cried, resigned.

"Then you will still marry me, and make me your Queen?" Eowyn asked, breathless with emotion and heartfelt happiness. "Before I loved you I was but half a woman, having but the shape and semblance of that which loves. If you leave me I shall be but half a shadow, haunting the world for lack of your love."

Grima kissed her, touching his tearstained lips to hers as he trembled with the love he felt.

"Yes," he whispered, "You shall be my Rhunland Bride."

A.N

I am exhausted after writing that. But! There are still at least three more chapters still to come! I hope you will like them as much as I do, and stay with me until the end!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"My King, a rider seeks your audience." Announced the guard.

"From what land does he bear message to Rohan?" Eomer, King of Rohan asked, lounging indolently in the throne that had been his uncles.

" A place far to the north and east. The Rhunland, Sire."

"Very well, send him in."

The Rider entered the hall, approaching the throne with an undaunted stride, his russet leather cape shedding rainwater to glisten on the wooden floor of the Golden Hall.

"Eomer-King. I bring to you an invitation for you and your court to attend the coronation of our new King."

Eomer sat up at these words, alert to the prospect of a celebration and a bout of revelry.

"Who is to be crowned, and when?" he asked bluntly, diplomacy be damned.

"There are several candidates undergoing selection as we speak. As a people we are anxious to rejoin the world, seeking to rebuild that which we had lost. Our land lies close to Mordor, King, and was ravaged by that ill luck. The coronation will be held soon, I am to lead you to our citadel when you are ready."

"Indeed? Then please, await my return. Hama, have my horses made ready, I go to Gondor, at once."

"The Rhunland? Yes, I received an invitation not long ago. I believe I intend to go, do you?" Aragorn replied to Eomer's question, his voice echoing in Gondor's feast hall, where they sat, King and King, supping on mead by the fire.

"Are there any of your Rangers in that land? Is it safe?" Eomer asked again.

"I remember one, I think. We have a map of that land, as such; it should be safe enough. I wish to meet their new king…he may be of some use. Besides, I would not have thought it like you to avoid a festival, surely you could not deny your sister some merrymaking?"

"Eowyn? She is…she is there already! Going to be married to some lord or other…I forget his name." He said, stroking his patchy blonde beard.

"Truly? You neglected to inform me;" he said thoughtfully. He hoped most fervently that this lord should love Eowyn, and be worthy of her. "Then you already have a duty to attend, and see your sister is well."

"I do? Bah, Eowyn can take care of herself!" he said with a grunt.

"That is not my business, my friend, but were she unhappy, would you not be to blame? Did you make no investigation into her marriage? A marriage of a princess is a tie not lightly undertaken."

"She has no claim to my throne while I live, Aragorn, it is no issue."

"That is the point, old friend; you do not have issue, and her children might claim your throne in time."

"But I had not..." he said, his brow furrowing with the effort of thought "are you saying I must marry also?"

"Nay, only that the ladies of the Rhun might be as yet fair as our own, and that this celebration might unite this land, all our kingdoms at peace together."

"So we go?"

"We go. Make haste tomorrow, back to your lands and I shall make my preparations. Let our two bands make the journey together, and we could be there within a month."

"I like it, the green suits you." Eowyn laughed. Her love stood upon a stool while the robe-maker fussed over him, his new dark green robes with their trimmings of grey fur hanging loosely as she worked to fit them to his awkward frame.

"It pleases me that you find this such an amusement, for I shall revel in it when your time comes, my laughing one." He retorted with a wry smile.

"If you think I'll be trussed up in this castle one more day, you must have lost your mind. Once you're finished here, let us go out for a walk. I need Trees, Grima!"

"Ah, so my golden princess has most truly abandoned her breeding." He grinned outright, loving that he could rile her with a few choice words

"I am here am I not? Please, my Love? I'll gladly go veiled, but I must get out of these oppressive walls."

"Of course, my Darling, I shall have men paint the black marble white, just for you." He smiled sarcastically. It was truly a delight to him to both tease and torment her, and that they named each other Love so easily. It had been a long time coming, from their peaceful idyll in the village he had grown up in, where he dreamed of taking her to wife, and now, when he prepared to make her his queen. He adored her pout, he had decided, and it pleased him to make her assume the expression when it suited him.

When the seamstress had finished his new robe they did indeed go for a walk, but Eowyn had neglected to wear her veil, and dressed instead in her sturdy village clothing, and Grima himself wore his buckskin and woollen tunic. In this guise of humble foresters, here for the celebration, they wandered the woods, the scent of moistened fertile earth beneath their feet freeing them once more.

"When I am King we may walk in these woods whenever you wish, My Lady." He promised her solemnly, his mind drifting to the coronation, which was but a few days hence.

"When you are King you shall be subject to matters more needful than the wishes of your wife." She reflected.

"I want to make you happy, Eowyn." He said, handing her a small white flower he found in the grass.

"I know. But you will make me most happy by being the king your people need. Good and kind and true." She smiled while winding the flower in her hair, her own thoughts drifting to the changes in this man since his banishment from her country, to how little he had needed to change to be loved by her.

Grima stopped, and unslung his pack from his back, putting aside their picnic for later, took their swords, and threw Eowyn hers, and they began their practice, or in Grima's case, training. He had never learned swordplay, and Eowyn was determined not to marry a man who could not handle a sword, she had jested. This had lead to their clandestine lessons, while the Ranger or the Elf looked on.

The Elf in question was studying the flowers on the far side of the meadow, looking over now and then, smilingly indulgent. It had taken much time, but with encouragement from all three, Grima had become a competent fighter, but none were intending to tell him, lest he take offence. The sounds of their mock battle well within his hearing, he drifted, enjoying the woods, hearing the trees talk.

These trees were different from his homeland, mysterious, dark and undeniably wild, he felt they were as interested in him as much as he them. Indeed, several times he had tried to explain to his companion Mirghast that he sensed their reluctance to let him go, and he feared what a wrench it would be to leave them finally.

"Ah, you got me! I am surely dying!" Grima laughed, getting up from the ground and inspecting a small cut on his shoulder.

"It is but a scratch, get up and fight like a man!"

"Better than fight like a shieldmaiden! But enough for today, I plead; I ache, and the sun goes down soon."

"Bah! I was just beginning to enjoy it! But yes, the light looks to be lowering. Legolas! Mirghast! We return to the castle."

Mirghast appeared from the trees as was his usual mode, and soon the Elf joined then, a thoughtful look on his pale, pointed face.

"My lords and Lady, there may be trouble ahead. I hear a large group of horsemen approaching. They wear metal armour, and are heavily laden. Their horses have travelled far."

"They approach the castle, but it is several hours journey from here, they must make camp before night." Said the Ranger.

Eowyn smiled. "Might we investigate? If we are to reach the castle ahead of them that they might make preparations for their arrival, might it not be wise to know who it is that approaches?"

The Elf paused, listening. "You may get your wish, My Lady, they pass by not far to our west."

And so they crept stealthily westward, led by Legolas, into a patch of briar high enough to hide them all, yet sparse enough to observe the horsemen.

"Those standards are of Gondor! And look, those of the Mark!" whispered Grima, startled. "We must warn our people that we are descended upon in war!"

"Wait, Grima," whispered Eowyn, "these are not a battle ready company, see their donkeys, and the womenfolk, I believe they come for the coronation."

"Even worse! What are we to do? I may be recognised!"

"Legolas, Grima, come to my chambers after we return; there is something I have in mind."

The journey back was not as swift as they had hoped, but they still made it back in time to have supper in Eowyn's rooms. As late as it was, they together decided that any mention of their impending visitors might lead to questioning about their previous activities, and this was most undesirable, so it was left to them to feign surprise upon the morrow.

Still later, after Mirghast had returned to the rooms he shared with Legolas, Eowyn began her efforts to make Grima unrecognisable.

"After all, they think you are dead. And you have become much stronger these past years. We will keep you in green, I think. Black is a mistake." She said, as she combed out his long, wild hair.

"Legolas, hand me that beaded necklace from the dresser?"

He did so, and watched amazed as she broke it with a swift snap, and piled the beads carefully in her lap. They were glass, with tiny flecks of colour in them, delicate and exotic. "I think I see your plan, my lady. May I assist?"

"I was hoping you would. Do so, for your fingers will prove more skilful than mine." She smiled, as Grima looked on, confused.

The night passed as they worked, and in the morning light, Grima bore a head of tendrils and braids, decorated with glass beads that clicked and tinkled when he turned his head. The effect was dramatic, and made Eowyn blush at the rakish and piratical aspect her betrothed now possessed. To his green robes had been added leather vambraces and sturdy boots, decorated with interlocking silver plates, and a wide silver belt.

"I look like a corsair!" Grima complained.

Eowyn replied, "Indeed, you look most unlike a dusty traitorous scholar. We should get some sleep before the castle wakes." She said, shooing them both from her rooms, and settling down to sleep, hoping for a few hours of rest before putting her plan to the test.

AN. i'm sorry this took so long! i got sucked into Doctor Who, and completely lost the plot! but i'm back on it now, and hopefully the next chapter wont take two years! lol.


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